


Two boys kiss a lot to forget about why they hate everything (and because they love each other).

by irisise



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Co-Dependency, Depression, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, It's kinda mostly fluff and deep shit, M/M, Overdosing, Slice of Life, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, high school sweethearts, it's fluffier than it sounds i promise, it's not too significant tho, pls take the tags seriously though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9015637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisise/pseuds/irisise
Summary: Dan realised it was cliché for two kind of messed up teenage boys to sit beneath a barren tree in a moderately abandoned graveyard to talk about their feelings, but he reasoned that everything descended into irony at some point so it’s pretty much pointless to consider sincerity and irony as opposing entities. He also reckoned that he thought too much about shit that didn’t matter.--Or, the one where sometimes everything sucks and sometimes it doesn't, and sometimes that's okay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a soundtrack, most of it was written to this https://open.spotify.com/album/4Etjon4eb67XlnfYv7lvxA - one of my absolute favourite albums of all time and definitely Milo Greene's best :) Enjoy.

***AUTHORS NOTE: This is not written chronologically. This is simply a series of moments. Every point could be the beginning or the end; you decide. ***

 

“Sometimes I think dying wouldn't be too bad,” Dan said softly, lying on his front with his head nestled in his folded arms. Phil hummed in response, his fingers trailing the length of Dan’s spine before making their way back up to caress his semi-burnt hair momentarily and beginning their descent once more.

The tanned boy's shirt was slightly too tight, all his new shirts being in the wash, and so it rode up slightly around his waist, exposing the band of his boxers, which Phil traced slowly when he reached the bottom of Dan’s back. He didn’t have any motive other than to comfort, especially with their friends in the room, but the touch calmed him also. He’d had a stressful day, to say the least.

Sarah's old copy of Hunky Dory played on the cheap record player in the background, emitting soft tunes that were left unheard by most of the room. The only people listening were PJ and Sophie sat in the corner of the small bedroom, heads lazily resting on each other's and fingers intertwined. Connie, Chris, and Peter sat at the foot of the bed that Dan and Phil were laying on, a joint getting passed between them and conversation rapidly adapting to current gossip and trends, dissolving into soft giggling every now and again. This tended to be the outcome of all their weekends. Sometimes Dan and Phil would participate, joining in on the laughs and gossip. Tonight just wasn’t one of those nights.

“Sometimes I really think killing myself would be okay,” The brown haired boy murmured again.

“I know, baby,” Phil replied, his hand wrapping its way around Dan’s waist to pull him closer. Dan ignored the dig of Phil's hipbone and turned to nestle his head into his collarbones.

“You shouldn't, though,” Phil added calmly. “You won't.”

He pressed kisses into the gently curling hair under his chin and let his words ring unanswered. He knew the answer. This wasn’t a conversation they had frequently, but it was one Phil knew well.

Their friends on the floor ignored them. They knew how they worked, and when to leave them alone. They didn't get it; no one did but they respected them enough to let them be weird without interruption. This was how things had been for about a year now. Phil closed his eyes, indulging in the waft of Dan’s breath against his skin and letting the music drift through one ear and out the other; crackling and distorted tones soothing him to sleep.

They’d wake up in about an hour, join in for the 2 droning songs and leave – hands tangled, laughs meaningless and words unspoken.

 

\---

 

“You're perfect.”

Dan’s tee-shirt was wet with a mixture of tears, saliva, probably snot and a small amount of vomit. His hands rubbed the others back with enough pressure to reassure and enough gentleness to calm, his palm flat and his words soft. His knees were cramping as he knelt on the tiled floor of the bathroom, balanced on his heels to support the weight of the tall boy more or less collapsed on him.

“You can breathe, there's enough air for you to breathe; you're okay.” He got no response but he didn't expect one, the boy had moved into his lap, arms winding around his neck to seek comfort, and to apologise. His sobs were quietening gradually. Dan placed one arm on the tops of his thighs and the other around his waist as he stood up with the light boy in his arms. He set him on the bathroom countertop carefully before turning on the hot water and grabbing a washcloth. He took off the boy's vomit stained shirt and got to work on cleaning up his face and chest, brushing his teeth for him while he cried and dressing him in a clean shirt and pyjama pants. It wasn't weird for them.

“Thanks,” the smaller boy murmured meekly, once they had settled into bed, Dan ignoring the feel of Phil’s spine and Phil enjoying the warmth that the taller boy always seemed to provide. His stomach hurt, and he wondered if maybe he'd actually pulled a muscle this time, but he was soothed by Dan’s fingers carding through his hair smoothly; long fingers caressing his scalp to send him to sleep.

Dan hummed an unrecognisable tune as they drifted off to sleep in Phil’s bed - words left unsaid and emotions left unfelt and love left steady between them, a second nature and a subconscious force of treacherous will.

 ----

 

“I got a C.”

Those were the first words that left Dan’s mouth when he flopped down heavily at their lunch corner; a secluded spot behind the art department in a semi-abandoned corridor. Phil had started kissing him before he could continue.

Their tongues tangled effortlessly, they had mapped out each other’s mouths expertly by now. Their lips moved slow and familiar, their breathing in sync and steady, like a practiced symphony orchestra. They didn’t take the time to enjoy themselves, lips moving carelessly in a prime effort to forget, to distract.

No one said anything. No one complained about the PDA, no one fake gagged or commented or giggled. They left them be, just as they always did – they had learned long ago that they weren’t doing it for pure hormonal satisfaction, but for a different reason that, admittedly, none of their friends wanted to know about.

“You did fine, baby, it was a hard test,” Phil justified when they pulled apart noisily.

Dan looked pained and Phil knew he didn't believe him and he never would. Sometimes words didn't work.

 

\-- -

 

“Can we stop for a second?” Phil asked, pausing their fast passed scramble to the bus stop to bend over his legs and breathe heavily.

The rest of rest of them slowed to a stop a few feet ahead of him, that being Chris, Connie, and PJ. Dan had kept at Phil’s pace the whole time, sticking by his side. “It’s just a bit further, Phil, we can sit down on the bus,” Chris whined. They really were going to miss it.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just light-headed. Didn’t wanna faint on you or anything,” he tried to laugh, but Dan knew it was a very real possibility. “Okay, let’s keep going.”

“Are you sure? You look a bit pale,” Dan prompted, concerned for his boyfriend.

“Yeah, I’m fine, love. I’m always pale anyways,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes and threaded their fingers. They continued the hurried pace they’d had before, arriving just as the bus did and clambering their way on in single file, like robots. Dan generally preferred walking home from school, but they’d all agreed to spend Friday at PJ’s place which was further, and Dan didn’t care enough to argue with anyone. He and Chris had argued a lot when they were younger, about 12 or 13, constantly at each other’s throats about this that or the other; be it Pokémon Cards or what girls they had fancied. None of it was really relevant anymore, Dan supposed. It had all stopped about when Chris’ parents had gotten divorced, and Dan got his first bottle of anti-depressants.

He knew things like that worried his mum a lot, all of it just emphasising that fact that he didn’t care about anything. And, honestly, it was half true. Dan didn’t care about himself, his appearance, his future, his health, or the majority of his ‘friends’. But he did care about Phil, he cared about his dog and his little brother. He cares about the fact that his mum had been off work for 6 months and that he hadn’t known about it for the first 3, and that they were broke. He cared about the fact that everything was fucked up and he couldn’t fix it. He didn’t talk about these things often, though. Really he only talked about things that upset him to Phil, which tended to make him feel guilty despite how much Phil urged that he wanted Dan to confide in him, that he loved him so much and he shouldn’t bear his troubles by himself.

The bus ride was slow as school rush traffic was heavy, and Dan had pulled Phil into his lap about 10 minutes in because the boy was shivering despite his jacket, and because nothing made him feel safer.

“I need a hit,” Dan said, murmuring into the crook of Phil’s neck.

Chris laughed, “Don’t we all?” Dan wished sometimes that his friend wasn’t such an eavesdropping smart-ass.

The bus stopped and a bunch of boys from a different school clambered on noisily, some of them with girls hanging off their arms, some of them shoving each other and laughing crudely. They took the four-seater opposite them, and the few seats behind it, just as their group had. Dan felt Phil tense immediately, and pulled him closer to him, wrapping one had around his waist and the other across his legs.

“Sup, PJ?” One of them asked but Phil couldn’t see them as he was sat sideways on Dan’s lap with his back to them, but he could hear the roughness in their accent, and was presuming they weren’t the type of people he got on with.

“Nothing much, just heading back to mine,” PJ replied, having obviously known them from getting the bus home so often.

“Who’s your friends?” One of the girls asked.

“Oh, this is Chris and Connie, and that’s Dan and Phil,” he said, pointing to them all one by one.

“Nice. You guys okay over there? You snogging or something?” The rough boy asked, speaking loudly to direct his question towards the boys who had remained cuddled into each other as if they were deaf or something. He started snickering with all his friends, and Dan decided instantly that he hated him.

Dan lifted his head from Phil’s shoulder to retaliate, “Fuck off.”

“Dan – don’t start something. They’re just being stupid.” Phil whispered pleadingly, gripping Dan’s t-shirt a bit harder and not moving his head from where it was in the crook of Dan’s neck.

“Did you just call me stupid, fag?” The boy across the bus asked threateningly, obviously having overheard him.

“No, no,” Phil said jumping at the harsh comment directed at him, about to turn around and apologise before Chris spoke up.

“What did you just call him?”

“You deaf? I called him a fag, F-A-G, fag.”

“You better shut the fuck up, you bastard, you’re obviously an ignorant shit.”

Dan, at times like this, couldn’t be more thankful for his friends. Neither he nor Phil were the confrontational type, and they had enough respect at their own school that no one bothered them, they didn’t know how to deal with people like that. Chris and the boy went back and forth for a while, with occasional interventions from PJ in order to stop a fist-fight. Thankfully, though, the bus came closer to their stop and Dan pressed the button for the bus to stop hurriedly, grabbing both his and Phil’s bags and pulling Phil up to urge him off the bus. Connie soon followed them off, momentarily followed by Chris and PJ. They were all quiet as the bus left the stop and continued on its way.

“Thanks,” Phil said quietly to Chris.

“Anytime,” he replied, wrapping him in a hug unexpectedly.

They made their way to PJ’s house quickly after that as it started to rain, toeing off their shoes once they made it to his living room and collapsing on the sofa to decide on a movie. Dan supposed that he cared about his friends sometimes, and wondered if maybe it was twisted that this only occurred to him after one had almost started a fight in his honour, but he settled on the fact that maybe the grateful notion was enough.

Phil settled back onto his lap – at least mostly on his lap - to make room for Connie on the couch, too, and also because it comforted them both to sit so close.

“Ignore what he said, okay?” He said to Phil, not wanting the other boy to believe anything negative about himself, “That guy was a homophobe - he, like, barely even counts as a human.”

“That’s a really messed up thing to say, Dan,” Phil said, half-heartedly.

Dan sighed, “It’s true, though. You are so much better than anything he said. Anyone who says slurs is stupid, you know that.”

“I’m just glad he didn’t call me fat.”

Dan almost huffed a chuckle in how ridiculous Phil’s comment was to him, that the other boy didn’t even care about the offensive comments that had been said about him on the bus because of how fucked up his brain had gotten regarding his own appearance.

“I know, Angel.” He pressed a kiss into the side of Phil’s head and let the conversation pass, focusing on the movie now playing. He wished Phil didn’t think like he did, sometimes. He wished that people were more understanding and that he wasn’t so messed up, and that Phil loved himself the way Dan loved him.

He tried to stop thinking and lose himself in the movie and the joint that was getting passed between Phil and himself, but Dan’s brain never seemed to shut up.

Eventually, he found himself drifting off to the familiar smell that was filling the room, and the feeling of Phil’s body on his, breathing steadily. He closed his eyes and fell asleep; he always did get sleepy when he was high.

 

\---

 

“It's midnight,” Dan said, sitting in between Phil's legs as they sat dangerously perched half way in his second-floor window, their left legs swinging free into the blackness outside. Phil had come home with Dan after school and had been talked into staying for dinner by Dan’s mum who Phil still called Mrs. Howell despite her constantly telling him that ‘It’s Linda, dear.’ Phil hadn’t had a lot, and had smiled apologetically, but Dan was immensely proud of him regardless. He knew though that Phil hated when people told him they were proud of him, so he kept the thought to himself. 

“It is?” Phil asked, not entirely interested as he littered kisses along the back of the other boy's shoulders and neck. Dan took a drag of his cigarette and hummed. Phil didn’t know when he’d started smoking, and was irked with himself that he hadn’t intervened enough to stop the bad habit. It annoyed him even more that by this point the smell was almost a comfort.

"Yeah, you were supposed to go home two hours ago.”

Phil sighed into Dan’s t-shirt, “You’re home.”

“You’re cheesy,” Dan said, not hiding a giggle.

“I don’t like cheese, though.”

“I know, you’re cheesy and a freak.”

The brunet chucked his half-smoked cigarette out the window and watch the embers die in some wet autumn leaves on the ground. He laughed bitterly.

“You scare me sometimes,” Phil said softly as he was dragged away from the window and onto the bed.

Dan ignored his statement in favour of smirking at him, “Come on, we should sleep now. You have a biology test tomorrow.”

Phil watched as Dan pulled off his t-shirt to reveal his hairless torso, it was so smooth and Phil couldn’t help but stare at the minimal puppy fat that lined the bottom of his stomach. He looked so soft and Phil wanted to wrap his arms around his and dig his fingers into his flesh and never let go.

“How do you know my school work better than I do?” Phil teased once he had torn his eyes back up to his boyfriend’s face.

“Hmm,” Dan smiled, continuing to change into a pair of pyjama bottoms. “I’m a good listener, I guess. You want pyjamas?”

“Please,” Phil said, catching the old t-shirt and sweat pants Dan had chucked at him. Dan smiled at him and left to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth, mainly because he knew Phil didn’t like changing in front of him despite the fact that Dan had seen him naked before. Phil put on the comfy clothes quickly, relishing in sneaking a long sniff of the clothes that smelt like the other boy, the scent putting him at ease again. He closed the blinds and made his way to the bathroom to join the other boy.

Dan had always made the weirdest faces when brushing his teeth, Phil noted, watching him from the doorway of the small bathroom. He remembered telling him this one time at a sleepover when they were 10, they had both laughed at Dan’s fake annoyance and fell asleep giggling. Phil smiled at the memory, and at how it was nice to know not everything had changed. It had felt like it recently. He walked up behind Dan to wrap his arms around him and grab his toothbrush from the pot above the sink in the process, kissing the side of Dan’s head before moving off him to brush his teeth.

When they climbed into bed together they shared lazy, minty kisses, Phil stopping Dan after his mouth had made its way to Phil’s neck and replenished a fading hickey there, “Nope, not tonight, I’m too tired now.”

Dan just nodded into his chest before wrapping his arms around him and making himself comfortable.

Several minutes later, when Phil’s breathing had slowed and he was about to let himself fall into the depths of slumber, Dan spoke up again.

“Phil?” He whispered, to gauge if the other boy was awake. Phil made no response, not feeling up to a conversation while being so tired.

“I just wanted to tell you,” he continued, thinking the other boy was asleep, “I scare me too, sometimes.”

 

\---

 

“Are you revising for that Chemistry exam?” Connie asked at one Thursday lunch break. 

“No,” Dan replied rapidly on an out breath, his eyes remaining glued to his phone. He wasn’t texting, or playing games, or tweeting. He was just flipping home screens, pointlessly.

“But, it's the final? You need to revise, Dan, you're smart enough to do really well, you know?” Dan did know. He was smarter than most people he had met if he was truthful. The problem was that he didn’t give a shit. He’d rather sleep.

He looked up at her with a smile, “Shut up.” He wished Connie would keep her thoughts to herself more often.

“Phil still off?” Peter asked, interrupting Connie before she could escalate the conversation in a futile attempt to be ‘helpful’. Not that Peter was helpful, either.

Dan nodded, “He's poorly.”

“Is he… Not getting better?”

“No. It's not his fault.” His tone was defensive, gruff, and protective.

“I didn't say it was.”

Dan sighed. “They won't let him out until he's ‘stable’ or whatever the fuck that means.”

Dan knows it’ll only be a week or so until he puts on a bit of weight. It wasn’t as bad as last time, still, he admits that it could be better. But they’ve been trying and Phil’s been trying so hard and Dan’s been trying to help him try, but humans are so often at the will of their own unforgiving nature that sometimes trying doesn’t work.

“Well… Maybe that's best?” Connie suggested.

“Not if they won't let me see him.”

“Oh, why won't they let you in?” The clinic doesn’t like him.

It was odd, sometimes, when Dan realised that their friends didn't really know anything about them. Then again, they didn't ever tell them anything. What they knew – they had supposed. Dan guessed he liked it that way. They knew the side of them that smoked pot and laughed too loud, and only witnessed some of the softer moments, never understanding, and never gaining insight. Dan didn’t think they could. He didn’t even understand himself, sometimes.

“They think I'm a bad influence… or something.”

"But, you make him smile?" Connie said, complexed, adding to the conversation at last.

Dan sighed, “They think I let him away with too much. But it’s not like screaming at him while he’s chucking up his lunch solves much. But, they don’t get him, or us.”

Dan saw Phil in a way that seemingly everyone else failed to, to him, Phil was a whole, beautiful person. To him, Phil wasn’t an illness.

 

\----

 

“I need you.”

Dan supposed, they never really said conventional things during sex. Or maybe they did, but it wasn’t meant that way. It meant… more. Words based on physicality meant nothing, it was all too temporary. It was unspoken, but they both knew they spewed too much bullshit to everyone else to talk trivially to each other, especially like this.

“I need you, too. Always need you, Angel.”

They moved like one, Dan arching up to meet the kisses Phil trailed down his bare torso. Fingers dug into seemingly paper thin skin, and there were always too many limbs to function accordingly but they always managed; perfection was nonsense anyways.

Dan never commented on how Phil looked, it would only be encouragement, and it would only be meaningless; it was all too temporary.

When Dan's eyes screwed up tightly as Phil pushed into him, he was calmed with stillness and gentle, patient kisses and the softest touches dusting the length of his collar and across his flushed cheeks. Phil told him he was gorgeous and Dan let it pass, he didn't think it accounted for much. He saw more affection in the way Phil only moved when Dan nodded and sighed when he bottomed out.

They liked to take their time as much as hormonal teenage boys could. Maybe it was due to the part of them that held themselves above the norm. It sounded laughably pretentious to admit, but it didn't sound like lies and it didn't sound like fake smiles and staring at your lap due to insufferable disconnection.

This felt real and Dan felt so alive.

“Phil, please,” he gasped, unsure of what he was asking for as his whispers of _please, please, Phil_ depleted into moans and whimpers and Phil picked up his pace.

Phil thrust carefully, changing angles until Dan gasped softly, his breath hitching in pleasure. Phil smiled at making Dan feel good, writhing himself at how overwhelming it felt, how it always felt when they were together like this. They sighed into each other’s mouths when they came, bodies grinding and squirming, pleasure overriding them both as they forgot themselves and just basked in the feeling.

They laid there for a minute, soaking in the afterglow, and coming down to the rhythm of the other’s heartbeat. When Phil pulled out, Dan cringed of oversensitivity and they fell asleep quickly, words unnecessary. Often times, they had come to know that notion left unsaid sometimes spoke the loudest.

When they woke up, Phil had put a tee-shirt back on, and a pair of boxers and Dan didn't comment. It had all been said before. They shared morning breath kisses and sweet touches, prolonging eye contact in the way they often did that had people telling them they were strange. They were strange, after all.

Dan failed his chemistry test that morning. He had revised, despite his previous dismissive attitude. Admittedly he hadn't worked extensively but he'd made an effort as much as he could and yet, it seemed to make no difference. He'd laughed about it a week later when his results were confirmed. Chuckling with Chris that _exams didn’t mean anything anyways_ and that _he couldn’t care less about stupid chemistry bullshit, am I right?_

But he didn't stroke Phil’s hair as he dry heaved later that night, because people were allowed to be selfish when they needed to be.

Sometimes Dan felt like his life was good, that he was content and he could enjoy pleasure and living and then sometimes it was all horrible. All of it. Sometimes everything Dan could think of was aggravating; his grades, his own fucking brain, everyone who loved him, who would miss him, who stopped him, who made him feel guilty.

He cried and let Phil brush his own teeth, although he had summoned up the strength to half-heartedly comfort the shaking boy to stability, once his heaving had stopped.

“I'm sorry,” he'd said when they were laying under the covers, feet touching, sharing warmth, “I'm horrible to you, sometimes.”

“Don't say that, you know that you do more than enough by sticking around,” the black haired boy replied. His cold, thin fingers reached out to stroke Dan’s hair off his face.

“I hate everything.”

“You don't hate me, though.” Dan smiled minutely at Phil's words, happy with his self-assurance.

“No, I couldn't. I need you too much.” He paused, his next words catching in his throat moments as he figured out how to phrase what he wanted to say, ultimately dropping it and deciding change the topic away from himself, “Sometimes, I just… I don't know how to help you.”

“You do, you help me every day when you smile at me when I eat an apple and stroke my back if I can't keep it down. You don't deny my flaws, and you don't generalise me. You know me – no one else does. That helps,” Phil said with a calm expression, a reassured one.

“You're my everything, how could I not?” It sounded cheesy, and Dan knew that, but that didn't mean that he didn't mean it.

Sometimes loving someone helps you love yourself, even if it's only in an effort to continue loving them.

 

\---

 

“It’s quieter, here.”

Dan noted that this was a rather irrelevant point to make; of course it was quiet, they were in a fucking graveyard. But he didn’t tease Phil about it, he knew he was just trying to get the words out

“Sometimes I hate the quiet, you know. It’s so empty.”

Dan hummed in response - most things seemed empty to him.

“It’s like, with you, obviously it’s okay but other times it’s so frustrating when you don’t know what to say and the quiet, it’s just mocking or something.” Phil leaned forward, crossing his ankles and bringing his knees up to his chest, his trousers slightly dirty and damp from the autumn soaked soil that they sat on. Dan realised it was cliché for two kind of messed up teenage boys to sit beneath a barren tree in a moderately abandoned graveyard to talk about their feelings, but he reasoned that everything descended into irony at some point so it’s pretty much pointless to consider sincerity and irony as opposing entities. He also reckoned that he thought too much about shit that didn’t matter.

“I never know what to tell anyone anymore. I just don’t know what to tell PJ or Connie or anyone when they ask me how I am, I don’t know whether or not I’m lying to my therapist anymore, so most of the time I say nothing and nod. My mum’s getting worried again. It just… It seems like nothing’s ever going to end.” He rambled, the words rushing from his lips in an endless stream; Dan’s hand on his knee comforting and encouraging.

“I want to be happy. I do. I want to make you happy and not feel you flinch when we fuck because my hipbone digs into you too hard, and I want to make my mum happy and not have to have her watch me like a hawk. She deserves so much better. She deserves a son who works, you know? Like what’s wrong with me? They keep telling me I’m getting better, that I’ve put on however much weight and I should be proud of myself but I’m not. I’m just sad.” Phil panted, his eyes welling up as he chucked a fist full of dirt away from him angrily.

Dan moved the hand on his knee to rub circles into his back and felt the first sob wrack Phil’s body before the distressed sound reached his ears. Dan didn’t know what to say, he rarely did. There were some things that you couldn’t help another person with, some feelings that despite your desperate wishes to, you could never bear the weight of for the other person. So he just pulled the crying boy into his side and let his hoodie soak up his tears, whispering sweet nothings into his soft hair gently.

“I’m sorry, sorry,” the boy choked out and Dan shushed him by tracing circles on his back and telling him that it was okay.

Silence stilled between them for a second, but not the type that Phil despised. The soft, comfortable type. Dan spoke up again after a long moment with the only comment he could think of to satiate the conversation.

“Do you want me to tell you a secret?” He whispered despite it still sounding too loud in the quiet of the evening. The sun was setting behind them but neither of them cared to watch. Phil nodded, his head lifting up and tired pools of azure meeting brown.

“I’m sad, too.”

Phil smiled and it was neither happy nor fake, “We’re such a fucking cliché.”

“I know right?” Dan chuckled, reaching out to tuck a greasy strand of hair away from Phil’s forehead, “Someone should write a romance novel about us.

Phil laughed, his tongue sneaking out to poke from between his teeth in the way that Dan was so fond of, “That’d be one messed up story.”

“What would they call it?” He asked teasingly, basking in the feeling of making Phil laugh, of making Phil happy.

“Something like ‘Two boys kiss a lot to forget about why they hate everything, and because they love each other.”

Dan smirked, “By Fall Out Boy.”

“Oh my god,” Phil laughed, throwing his head back after shoving Dan playfully, “You’re so stupid.”

“You love me, though. You said it yourself,” Dan said in between giggles.

“Hmm,” Phil hummed, correcting his sitting position so he wouldn’t fall over and eyes boring into Dan’s softly. The moment slowed.

“You’re right, I do.”

They just sat for a moment, looking at each other. Phil had looked healthier lately, his cheeks were glowing with a lively red in the chill of the autumn night, Goosebumps sitting up perkily on his pale skin because he wasn’t very good at retaining heat and his smile glinting white, standing out against the darkness behind him. He looked like he was glowing, and Dan realised that was probably because he was so pale and the moonlight enclosing them only accentuated this, but he still reckoned it was maybe just Phil’s… Phil-ness that made him glow. He also realised that he was so in love, and he was so grateful.

He turned his head to look out over the town beneath the hill that the graveyard was situated on.

“One day, we’re gonna leave this place, you know.” It wasn’t a question.

Phil watched Dan’s profile become illuminated as more stars appeared in the sky, his nose lighting up slightly yellow as it was closest to the street lights below them, “I know.”

“I wonder if anyone will miss us.”

Phil hummed again, moving to join Dan in looking out over the town. They weren’t high up enough for it to look small, in fact, from this angle it looked vast, expansive and full, “I suppose, anyone who will will either be anticipating it, or be too busy being missed themselves.”

Dan turned his head to gaze at the stars above him through the bare branches of the old tree, from above the street lights the light pollution wasn’t so bad. They sat in contented silence for a minute, one that opposed Phil’s earlier complaints and merely enjoyed the still air and the stinging in their cheeks from the cold.

“Do you think that when people die, they become stars?” Dan asked, speaking up again after the thought popped into his head.

“I don’t know, I think it’s a nice idea, though.”

“Doesn’t really tie in with my nihilistic aesthetic, though, does it?” He joked, grinning cheekily.

“’Suppose it doesn’t, too bad,” Phil laughed.

“You know I think we could both be Tumblr famous if we tried. Aesthetics are all the range on there,” Dan said as he laid back onto the soil beneath him, his eyes remaining focused upwards.

“Probably,” Phil said, laying back beside him, their arms touching. “What would our blogs be?”

Dan chuckled, “I’d probably run a crappy shitpost blog, with an occasional tasteful dash of porn.”

“So tasteful,” the boy replied with a soft giggle.

“And you, you’d run some aesthetically pleasing plant blog and reblog all this 4am poetry when you’re sad.”

"Sounds like us,” Phil said, a wistful smile engulfing his expression.

“And you’d take cute photos of me when I’m not looking and my head is turned and everyone would ship us.”

“Who wouldn’t,” Phil teased, feigning cockiness.

The moment slowed once more as they listened to the sound of their breaths and watched the white gusts of hot air leave their mouths and dissipate into the cool air. It was dark now, and they were probably supposed to be home a good while ago, and the graveyard was probably supposed to scare them; it was old, almost a relic of another time when a cold meant ultimate peril and women wore corsets and dresses and people courted each other. Instead, it seemed hauntingly peaceful to Phil.

“Why aren’t we scared of graveyards?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” Dan pondered, “Probably because the people in the graves are likely happier than the people in the town below them.”

“Probably,” Phil sighed. After a moment, he sat up and fixed the jacket which had moved off his shoulder to welcome cold, frosted air onto his t-shirt covered skin. “We should go home.”

Dan blew a draft of milky air from his lungs out into the black sky and watched it disappear before answering slowly, “This feels like home.”

Phil smiled, his eyes focused on the other boy with adoration, “I know. But it’s cold, and our parents are probably worried.”

They got up with heavy sighs and dusted the dirt of each other’s clothes before standing there for a still moment, looking at the graves set just a bit away from the tree they had been under; it was peaceful. Phil turned his head to look at the slightly taller boy before grabbing his chin gently and pulling him in for a long, slow kiss.

Their mouths were wonderfully hot in comparison to the freezing temperature that surrounded them, and they lavished in the lazy movements of their lips which had become so accustomed to the other person’s. Dan licked into Phil’s mouth slowly once he had urged his lips apart, ravishing the warmth of the backs of his teeth and the sides of the black haired boy’s tongue which moved slowly in time with his own. They pulled apart to kiss closed-mouth again, lips wet and red and chapped, familiar and soothing. They let their kissing slow to occasional pecking and mouths resting a few millimetres apart, sharing warm breaths, eyes closed.

“You’re my favourite person,” Dan said softly, smiling against Phil’s mouth.

Phil chuckled, giving Dan one last, slow peck before pulling away to look at him and grab his hand, “I thought you were going to say I love you.”

Dan smiled, his lips shiny and red, “I did.”

They walked home with fingers tangled and words unneeded. Their legs matched in rhythm as they always seemed to, and their strides were slow, basking in the chill air and the feeling of warmth in their rosy cheeks and in their palms pressed together tightly. The walk wasn’t long as neither of them lived too central to the town, so when they inevitably reached Phil’s house, Dan engulfed him in a hug and enjoyed the feeling of sharing warmth and love and memories. They fit so perfectly together, heads resting together, Phil’s arms around his neck, clinging to him like he wouldn’t ever let go. Dan never wanted him to.

They locked eyes when they pulled apart after what felt like an eternity, and Phil whispered, “You better text me in the morning.”

“I always do.”

“I know, I just like to make sure I’ll always know if you’re okay.”

“I know,” Dan smiled lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you. Sleep well,” Phil said as he released Dan’s hand and turned to retreat into his house.

Dan began his walk to his own home, which was only about ten minutes away, and held on tightly to the feeling of Phil’s warmth, and his kisses and the way he filled the gaps between Dan’s fingers with his own. He knew it was over dramatic to say that Phil was all he would ever need, all he wanted. But in that moment he didn’t care about being a cliché, he didn’t care about being over dramatic - all he cared about was that right then he felt okay. He felt safe and he felt sane and loved and cherished and cared about and he cared so hard. He cared so much he felt like his heart was spilling out into his lungs and mingling with each breath he took, consuming the oxygen that kept his brain fuelled and devouring each intention, each thought with _Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil Phil_.

The kitchen lights were still on when he arrived home despite the fact that his nearly dead phone informed him that it was 02:12 AM. It turns out his brother had waited for him.

“Good night?” He asked Dan as he settled into the other end of the sofa and closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

His brother took a breath as if to speak, before letting it out again. Dan was too wrapped up in the memories of his calm night to ask what he was thinking about.

“He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

“How do you know I was with Phil?” Dan asked, assuming that was who his little brother was talking about.

“No one else makes you smile.”

Dan huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, he makes me happy,” he said, answering his previous question.

His brother pausing, seemingly deciding whether or not to say what he wanted to before saying, “I don’t understand how you work. You’re both opposite ends of fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” Dan asked, taken back for a moment.

“Well… he hates himself and you hate everyone else.”

Dan supposed it was true. It was simple to Dan, though, how his relationship worked.

“We make up the parts of the other person that don’t work, I guess. And we don’t ask questions about shit that doesn’t have answers.”

His brother hid a smile by looking at his folded up knees, “You know, I really hope you make it out of this place.”

“Me too, kid.”

“I told you, I’m not a kid anymore,” His brother laughed, playfully reaching a foot out to kick him harmlessly.

“Oh shut up, you’ll always be, like, 8 in my head.”

They let their laughter dissipate, the moment became something else again.

“You know, you’ll find someone who makes up the parts of you that don’t work, too, someday. I’m just lucky that my person grew up 10 minutes away.”

“Is it worth it?” His brother asked abruptly, almost interrupting him, his brows furrowed as if he was thinking too hard again.

“Is what worth it?” Dan asked quietly.

“The… messed up-ness. His messed up-ness. Do you not get tired of it?”

Dan took a long time to answer, “I could never get tired of him. All the fucked up parts are only temporary. The good things make it worth it, he is so worth it. I mean, it’s obvious to me – but I guess people just can’t see past the bad parts a lot of the time. But he sees past mine and I see past his and we make each other feel okay.”

“What about happy?”

Dan sighed, he hadn’t expected a conversation like this upon his arrival home, “Well, I guess a lot of the time life makes it so happy isn’t really an option. But he will make me happy, and I’ll make him happy. For now, okay is all I can ask for.

“Besides,” he continued, “I feel happy sometimes. Everyone does – its just not a permanent fixture in my life yet. That’s okay, though, I’m willing to wait.”

Dan fell asleep smiling that night, and Phil fell asleep to the image of dissipating white gusts of breath and slow kisses and gleeful giggling in the darkness. Both of them happy in that moment, and both of them excited for the day that happiness would become permanent; for when the bad would seem less devastating because happiness would always be waiting on the other side of it, for when over-flowing love was simply the norm and laughing came second nature.

But for now, both of them held onto the feeling of tangled fingers and mingling breaths and knew that, for now, that was enough. That was all they needed.

 

\---

 

“Hey, Phil?” Dan said when the other boy had picked up the phone. 

“Yeah,” the other boy said nonchalantly, probably doing homework or painting, or something.

“I need you to come round, I – just please,” he talked slowly, quietly into the phone.

“You okay? I’m coming now,” Phil said, his voice picking up a tone of urgency and concern. He quickly gathered his keys and made his way down the stairs and out the front door. Dan didn’t sound like he was horny or bored, he sounded small and scared in a way Phil hadn’t heard before.

“I did something really stupid, Phil,” he could hear him start to cry over the machine. Phil started to run.

“Stay on the phone with me, Dan. Is your mum home?”

“No, no, she’s out – she’s somewhere. The house is empty,” his voice got smaller.

“Fuck,” Phil hardly ever swore, “What did you do, baby, can you tell me?”

“I took a lot of pills, I don’t know, sleeping pills I think. I’m getting really tired, Phil.”

Phil made his best efforts to keep Dan talking, hoping that Dan couldn’t hear his tears through his voice. He said a silent prayer the moment he saw the Howell’s house come into view and picked up his pace, forcing his body to sprint despite how fragile it was.

“I’m here now, Dan, don’t’ worry,” Phil said trying to remain calm as he fumbled with the spare key that they kept under the mat, “Where are you?”

“The bath,” he sounded weak.

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” Phil hung up quickly and ran up the stairs he knew so well.

When he shoved the bathroom door open he found Dan in the bath, phone resting in his hands and eyelids half closed.

It felt like a nightmare, the bathroom too white, his boyfriend too pale, the whole room spinning and his brain frantically thinking that _this isn’t real it can’t be real I never thought he would-_

“I’m here, baby, you’re okay, I’m calling for help now,” Phil said, crawling into the bath and taking the pale boy in his arms. He checked his pulse to find it was weak, but it was there, it was still there.

“What is your emergency?” The receiver in the phone that Phil hadn’t noticed he had dialled yet asked. He cursed himself that he hadn’t rang it as soon as Dan told him what had happened.

“My boyfriend took too many pills, he’s still breathing but it’s weak and he’s so pale, he can’t –” Phil cut himself off with a sob that wracked his whole body.

Phil followed the receiver’s instructions mechanically, rattling off an address he didn’t even know he knew and trying his hardest to keep calm, breathing deeply.

When the phone call ended, Phil didn’t bother to hide his sobs as he gathered Dan in his arms, sliding his way underneath him like he had so many times they’d taken baths together before, before they were even a proper couple even.

Dan was still limp in his arms when the ambulance arrived. The medics pulled him off him, and one kind lady wrapped an arm around him to comfort him, “You can ride with him, he’s still alive, you did the right thing, son.”

He didn’t feel like he had done the right thing. He must have done something wrong along the way. Phil hadn’t made him happy enough, he hadn’t kept him alive. He felt like everything was ending. His worst fear was now a reality and the only thing he loved could be taken from him at any moment.

Still, he felt oddly numb, and he felt guilty about it but he guessed, he’d have time to cry about things once he knew Dan was okay, or… Phil didn’t want to think about it.

He’d rode to the hospital in the ambulance, his hand clutching Dan’s painfully, his lasting streak of hope being the small rises and falls of Dan’s chest and the steady beeping of the monitor he was attached to.

Phil would find Dan passed out in a bath two more times in his life. And he would learn to realise that sometimes you can forget that everything sucks until all of a sudden everything is so wrong again _wrong wrong wrong wrong_. And he learned that sometimes all you can do is hold those you love close and pray. And he also learned, that sometimes, even the best efforts can’t stop life from fucking you over.

 

\---

 

“Everyone’s staring at us,” Phil whispered. 

“So? Let them look,” Dan smirked, his eyes boring into Phil’s as other couples dances around them, some far more intricately than Dan and Phil, who were pretty much just swaying from side to side, arms wrapped around each other tightly.

“I don’t know why they are, though? It’s not like they don’t see us in school together every day?”

“It’s ‘cause you look so hot in a suit, babe,” Dan teased, pushing a stray strand of Phil’s fringe back into the rest of it.

“’Babe?’ Where did that come from? What happened to ‘Angel’ that’s way nicer?” Phil laughed, swaying them slightly harder and twirling with the ends of Dan’s hair that his fingers could reach from where they were looped around the taller boy’s neck.

Dan laughed along with him, “I don’t know, sometimes my inner douchebag just comes out.”

Phil hummed around a chuckle, “It’s probably from being surrounded by all this heteronormativity,” his eyes flickering out to all the couples around them.

Dan threw his head back in a laugh at his boyfriend’s one-liner, letting his gaze drift around the hall as he snickered. The walls of the sports gym were covered in banners and posters of hearts and balloons and straight couple’s dancing. It was clichéd and stupid to Dan, and honestly he had only agreed to come so he’d have an excuse to see Phil in a suit.

He guessed it was okay, though; Chris had spiked the punch.

Dan hummed, turning back to look at Phil, “They all seem so stupid, don’t they?”

“What’d you mean?”

“Like, most of the people here genuinely think that this is important, like it matters or some shit,” he scoffed.

Phil frowned, “and you don’t?”

“Um, well, no? It’s all… trivial don’t you think?”

“I don’t think making any sort of memory with you is trivial.”

Dan was taken back, unsure of what to say or if he had made the other boy angry.

“Oh, sorry, I agree with you. I do. I’m just cynical, I guess.”

Phil huffed a laugh, “I know, you hate anything sincere.”

“Hey, that’s not true, I’m always sincere with you,” Dan said, squeezing Phil’s sides.

“I know, I know.”

They looked at each other and smiled, letting the moment settle and any differences dissipate. The music being pumped around the hall like a heartbeat continued on, flowing through each teenager’s veins and acting like a drug in the way that music somehow had the capability to do.

“Do you think,” Dan spoke up, “that in, say, 20 years or so, you’ll remember this?”

Phil looked at him carefully, “Of course, how could I forget it? I mean, isn’t this one of those experiences that everyone remembers?”

“Maybe,” Dan trailed off, his head somewhere else.

“What’re you thinking about?” Phil asked softly after a long moment.

“Just about how, if you think about it, life is just a mishmash of moments, glimpses of your life. Like, if you don’t remember something then it’s not permanently a part of your life. Doesn’t that scare you?”

Phil looked at him in astonishment for a moment, his gaze flickering between Dan’s eyes due to their close proximity.

“No, that doesn’t scare me. It just means that the moments you remember are the ones that changed you as a person, and who would want to remember the boring bits anyways?”

“I want to remember every moment with you.”

Phil smiled at that comment, his head tilting in affection, the feeling of being loved warming his body, sending tingles across his tummy and into his lungs.

“Well, you better make each moment count then.”

Dan half-smiled, “I think that’s easily the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Phil laughed, “It’s true, though. You know, maybe somethings are over-said for a reason.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“What’s with you and all your ‘maybes’ tonight?” Phil teased.

Dan chuckled, “I don’t know, I think I’m just enjoying the temporary for once.”

“I thought we agreed that this would be a moment we’ll remember.”

“Well, Phil, things change. Besides, it’s not like memories are ever remembered the same way they happened,” Dan noted.

“That’s true,” Phil shrugged.  
  
The disco lights above them turned yellow and warm, moving to scope out edges of the room where the nobodies sat, heads in their drinks and hearts in the future, where new couples danced in the centre of the room, heads empty and smiles big, where the teachers stood with their arms folded, smiles small and heads in the past. The light catching each and every person for just one second, and then moving on. 

Dan didn’t look at them, though. In fact, he let his eyes fall shut and the corners of his lips rise fractionally as the beat of the unfamiliar music projected into the cavities of his ribcage and his fingers fell into the dips of Phil’s hips, gripping.

Later that night, Dan would find himself laughing, overcome with giggles and alcohol and rolling about on the floor with people he had known all his life and never before that night said more than 4 sentences to. He’d find pink and yellow and orange lights hitting him over and over and over again, each for a mere second, and each equally blinding and hot.

And every time he would turn his head he’d spot Phil, laughing too, clutching his sides and wheezing. Dan would grab his hand and hold it tight and they’d be happy together for a moment – a fleeting, singular moment of many over and over and over again.

 

\---

 

“It’s weird, you know,” Dan said, not elaborating any further.

“What’s weird?” Chris asked.

“You know, that you don’t really know anything about me.”

“You never tell me anything,” he said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Dan supposed he never thought that his friends might have accepted the distance between them and he and Phil a long time ago. They were sitting outside of the school gates, waiting for their friends to arrive. They found themselves like this often, the crisp morning air making their eyes water and their noses run, their fingertips turning red and bodies shivering in the cold. It wasn’t that either of them were morning people – more so that both of them slept turbulently more often than not.

“I suppose I don’t.”

“That’s okay,” Chris said, his fingers playing with the loose threads on the button hole of his school blazer, “I don’t really tell you much either.”

“That’s probably ‘cause I never seem interested, though. I’m too selfish or whatever.”

Chris hummed softly in response, thinking to himself for a moment.

“You’re not selfish,” he finally answered. “You’re just fucked up.”

Things fell silent for a while, the two teenagers letting the sound of the morning traffic rush and chirping birds fill the silence.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Chris turned his head to look at him, “I do wonder what goes on inside that head of yours sometimes, though.”

Dan huffed a laugh, “Well, ask and I’ll answer, I guess.”

“When did you and Phil fuck for the first time?”

“Oh my God, Chris!” Dan exclaimed, throwing his head back in laughter at the unexpected question.

“What?” Chris said around his giggles, “This is bro talk here.”

“’Bro talk’ oh my fuck that’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, still chuckling and playfully shoving the boy lightly.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Dan sighed with a smile, “Honestly, I don’t even know, like four months after we became official?”

“Wow, dude, you took your time,” Chris teased.

“Well, yeah, maybe we did,” Dan paused, his brows furrowing slightly, “but that’s because it isn’t just like, fucking, or whatever like it was a big deal – for us anyways. I mean, Phil’s never been very comfortable with himself or anything.”

Chris let the silence settle for a moment, his gleeful expression dissolving into one of deep thought.

“You guys are good for each other. Don’t forget that just because he isn’t getting better fast, or because you aren’t either – or any of it. You’d be a lot worse without each other.”

Dan nodded, his face serious before his frown dissolved into a fond smile, “Do you remember before Phil and I got together?”

Chris giggled breathily, “You were so smitten with each other. It was almost more disgusting than you are now.”

The boys laughed, “I know, we’re literally the grossest couple in the school.”

“Hmm, you are. It’s okay, though, everyone thinks it’s cute.”

“Mrs. Dorson doesn’t,” Dan said, surprising himself – he hadn’t talked about this with anyone.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked, concerned.

“She called me in last week, told me that Phil and I were, like, ‘co-dependent’ or some shit and that it wasn’t healthy to be so reliant on someone, or whatever.”

Chris bumped his shoulder with the other boy’s, “School counsellors are wankers.”

“Very true,” he laughed before shrugging, “anyways, she’s like not even qualified; she doesn’t even know me.”

“Yeah, dude, don’t worry about it.”

Their heads looked up as they heard their friends approaching. Phil, PJ, Sophie and Connie all lived on the same street, so they all came in PJ’s car, parking down the road because Lord knows there was hardly ever any spaces left outside the gates or in the car park – their school was run by a bunch of misers who would rather buy a new Lambourgine out of school funds than expand the student carpark.

The two boys jumped off the wall they had been perched on and made their way towards the group of laughing friends who hadn’t noticed them yet. Dan watched Phil as he giggled, his hand covering his mouth as he threw his head back at a comment PJ had said, his eyes crinkling. Phil’s eye caught Dan’s as they approached the gates, his blue orbs gaining a softer light, and even Dan himself couldn’t deny the fond expression that overtook the black haired boy’s face before he quickly ran to hug the taller boy.

“I’ve missed you,” Phil said into the crook of Dan’s neck as he engulfed him in a hug, warmth surrounding Dan and security finding him again in the scent of lavender and pistachios.

“You saw me yesterday, you dork,” Dan said, making no effort to conceal his deep breaths of Phil scent.

“I missed you, anyways.”

“Wow, sounds like you like me,” Dan teased. “I feel special.”

“You are.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written considerable quickly for the most part, and I think that's due to how inspired I was to write. This came mostly out of things I see in the world, and some of what I see in myself. It's the longest, most personal and most fulfilling thing I've ever written. 
> 
> Thank you to Sophie for your endless support, for once I'm proud of myself too.
> 
> This work will pretty much never be finished, meaning you can continue it in your head however much you like, and theorize about the order of events and how everything turned out. I like a story like that, so here you go. 
> 
> Come scream at me on twitter: @angeljungguk
> 
> <3


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